


Past lives

by Floptopus



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Masters meeting, Snark, just lotsa snark, that’s about it really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-11 00:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16465583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Floptopus/pseuds/Floptopus
Summary: The Master is having tea in the TARDIS, minding his own business, when an irritatingly familiar visitor shows up.





	Past lives

The Master was sitting in the TARDIS console room, sipping his tea. His android body had no real method of digesting the liquid, but the water could be absorbed and used to lubricate some of the parts. It really was excellent craftsmanship, running off an internal combustion engine that was fuelled by ordinary food and emulating other processes in similar ways. It even had a psychic circuit that could pick up, broadcast and influence thoughts like his Time Lord mind had.

As he drained the cup, the doors to the ship were flung open. Silhouetted in the doorway was a bald man in a Stetson, pulling a melodramatic pose. 

“Oh, Doctor!” The figure trilled. “Hell-oo!” He strutted into the TARDIS, and spun around on annoyingly chirpy feet. “Doctor, dear, where are you?”

The Master sighed, exasperated. “Hello, you,” he muttered irritably.

The figure turned to face him, and had a double-take when he saw who was sitting in the armchair. The Master waved, a sarcastic smirk on his face.

“Who are you? Wait, no. I know that. You’re me, presumably from the future. What are you doing here? Where’s the Doctor?” The intruder seemed surprisingly taken aback by the Master’s presence. 

That only served to further frustrate the Master - of course he remembered being this ridiculous, camp creature, but he didn’t ever remember being an idiot. He told his past self as such and continued, “in answer to your questions, I am the Master, I live here, and the Doctor is currently somewhere down there,” he gestured vaguely towards the spiral staircase, “trying to combat a nasty dose of poison. Sparkling cyanide, enough to kill him if he doesn’t act. It won’t kill him, of course, I’d never countenance a rival who can’t even self-detox, but the threat is there.”

His younger self stared at him, a mixture of shock, outrage and irritation on his face. He seemed to be grasping for something to do, and eventually decided to pull out a Tissue Compression Eliminator and point it at him. “Go and find the Doctor,” he ordered, “or I’ll kill you where you stand. I’d really rather not do that, my plans for the Eminence and the Doctor will work far better with both of us, but I will if you won’t get him. I’d rather die than end up loyal to him.”

The Master didn’t even bother standing. “I don’t think I will, you know. I’ll be incredibly bored without the Doctor to try and kill. Oh, and by the way, it won’t work.”

“Of course it’ll work! It’s a brilliant plan! The Eminence will be completely within my control within a matter of days. You wound me with your accusations, you truly do. Now,” his voice took on a menacing tone that he hadn’t bothered using before, “fetch the Doctor.”

As touched as he was by the child finally taking him seriously, the Master still didn’t fancy being his errand boy. He poured himself another cup of tea from the pot on the table, and picked up his book. Out of the corner of his bionic eye, he watched his younger self bristle at the slight. The boy aimed the TCE at the Master, and fired.

As expected, it did nothing. 

He stared at the TCE in shock, adjusted the settings, and fired again.

Still nothing. 

The Master laughed, sipping his tea. “You thought I meant your plan, didn’t you? I didn’t, though that’s doomed to fail too. The TCE won’t work on me, I’m afraid.”

His younger self stepped closer and rapped the Master’s skull. The sound, while similar to what he’d expected, was slightly off-pitch. Not flesh and bone, then. Something else. He gasped, then grinned childishly. “You’re an android!” He cried, as excited as if he’d just discovered anti-time. God, had the Master really been so chirpy? 

From over the chirpy idiot’s shoulder came a series of clicks. “Drop the TCE,” called out the Doctor, voice raised in an authoritative manner. “Turn around slowly and step away from the Master.” He was holding a temporal displacement weapon, the end of which was pointed directly at the young one’s bald head. 

He did as ordered, and scrutinised the Doctor as he did so. “Hello, you!” He chirped, causing both of the other men to roll their eyes. “I was just looking for you!” He continued cheerfully. “I need you,” quick as a flash, he pulled another TCE out of a pocket in his robes, “for some experiments. Use some of your regenerative cycles to boost my own, then use the rest to-“

He crumpled to the ground with a thud. The Master looked sadly at the handle of the now fractured teapot he had used to knock him out, and then to the Doctor. “Get rid of him, would you? Before I give in to the urge to slit his irritating throat with one of the shards of my favourite teapot.”

The Doctor bowed dramatically. “My pleasure,” he replied, firing the temporal displacement weapon at the younger Master’s prone form and sending him to god knows where. The Master retrieved a new teapot and put the kettle on to boil as the Doctor swept up the remaining shards of china.

“Oh, and really? Cyanide? You’ll have to do better than that if you really want me dead, my dear.”

“Oh, I will,” promised the Master, but he meant nothing of the sort.


End file.
